10 minutes! When the bell rings , the race is on! Harding students are a unique breed when it comes to managing time. Where else cou ld you find people who can check their mail , read club boxes, talk to at least five people , play a coup le of practical jokes , and sti ll make it to class across campus , just in time to slip into their seat as the bell rings. It 's great to be at Harding! - photo by Jeff Robinson . Races are a way of life at Harding! I don't know why the Benson was built to bring together 2,800 students, when the mail room adequately contained the 2,800, plus faculty, at 9:37 every weekday morning. The short, but strenuous test of speed, agility and endurance which brought one out of his chapel seat and to his mailbox exhilarated each participant. Reaching through the square hole which was surrounded by cold metal and lined with dust was not unlike stretching for that ribbon which spans a finish line. Those who were athletic arrived first, some getting to their boxes and out of the mailroom before the others arrived. Those who were violent could arrive late, and just shove their way through the crowd. This was only one of the races that Harding students participated in daily. A less invigorating, but just as rewarding race was that ''Uh-oh, it's 3:45 on Friday and I've got to cash a check" dash, which was sometimes amplified by 44 Harding Races "and Monday's a bank holiday." The panic of this situation generally struck during the TGIF ("Thank goodness it's Friday!") nap, and brought the sleepiest of all students out of the napping mode and into his sneakers for a sprint to the HUB or the Business Office. Another campus race, which offered food and fellowship at the finish line, was that College Church to cafeteria course, which included the 'Where should Christians cross the street?" obstacle. A chain of decisions made during that run could cause the ill-prepared participant to lose up to 12 . seconds on the clock. For example, he had to decide which end of the pew was closest to where he was sitting, and, if there were people between the racer and the aisle, were they lingerers or the competition? He had to consider the distances to the doors and the number of people that clogged each entrance. As a general rule, the southeast door was the first to coagulate while the fire escape from the balcony was usually pretty clear. Since it had been predetermined by some people who made chapel announcements that all Christians cross at the light, and only when it's red, that decision did not need to be made by the competitor, but he did have to calculate the geometric advantages of crossing at a 140 degree angle over a curb and through the grass on Grand Street instead of a 90 degree angle on concrete at a crosswalk. Then he had to decide which cafeteria door, which line, which vegetable - so many decisions, so little time. But were we really so rushed for time that we had to shove our way past the other runners? Because the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, did we have to walk on it? Bible instructor L.V. Pheifer often said, "It's a great day for the race," hoping that someone would ask, "What race?" He didn't mean the one from chapel to the mail room, or from church to the cafeteria, but the big race, the one that really matters, the Human Race. 11lt - Carla Crouch
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